


Flufftober Day 22: “Do you trust me?”

by GuyOfShy



Series: Locked Tomb fics [20]
Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020, Reunions, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuyOfShy/pseuds/GuyOfShy
Summary: Prompt: “Do you trust me?”Corona/Ianthe romantic reunion kinda thing.
Relationships: Coronabeth Tridentarius/Ianthe Tridentarius
Series: Locked Tomb fics [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937449
Kudos: 10
Collections: Flufftober2020





	Flufftober Day 22: “Do you trust me?”

For the first time since its creation, the Gleaming Citrine was cut. The precious, oval-shaped jewel, a sparkling offshoot of the sun, was carved in perfect halves and attached to engraved white-steel hooks and bestowed upon the princesses of Ida for their thirteenth birthday. Coronabeth and Ianthe Tridentarius each hung a piece from their opposite ears, as proof of a promise to never be parted from one another.

\---

"You still have it," mewled Corona.

"But of course. I know the promise fell in somewhere along the way, but I was not about to bury it myself by discarding such a treasure."

"You say this as if you did not lose an arm somewhere inbetween!" cried Corona, gingerly running her hand down the length of her gilded replacement, stopping short at her wrist before sliding her fingers between the sharp, rigid finger-bones and touching their palms together; soft to hard, warm to cold, pink to gold.

"Replaceable," said Ianthe curtly with a toss of her hair, taking the movement to survey the interior of the ship that her sister had arrived in, but found she could not keep her eyes from wandering back to Corona after too long. "Speaking of true treasure…" Ianthe lifted her other hand under Corona's chin, earning a winsome smile from her. "I am ever so glad to see that a treasure such as yourself has not lost its luster," she said with a smile of her own.

Corona bounced forward at that, crashing their lips together in a hard press that softened into a tender reunion: a conjoining of their love beyond jewels and arms or smiles.

“I feel I should mention,” said Ianthe calmly, with a stitch of care sewn between her words. “The arm is of Harry’s work.” Corona took a moment to process the nickname, and then who it belonged to. “And though it ached like a total bitch getting it done - I could curse her methods to the nine houses and back - the work is quality. A different Lyctor - my mentor,” Ianthe added with no small amount of esteem, “is responsible for the gilding.”

And with no small amount of jealousy did Corona react; not to the tutelage under one of their God’s hands and gestures, but to the mention of that Ninth nunlet granting such a favor, and apparently through a painful process.

Ianthe spoke her name with such intimacy that Corona’s eyes widened, ringed with distress, remembering how far they had been apart, and for how long. Ianthe seemed to have shed her pallid skin and languid stare in exchange for a gleaming coat. The resplendent, prismatic cloak draped her peaked, pointed shoulders attractively and the upper half of her substitute arm gleamed incandescent under it. For the first time in their lives, Ianthe sparkled just as bright, if not brighter, than her sister.

How else had she changed?

“Corona.” Ianthe was shaking her shoulders. “Don’t worry, dolt. Harry’s mind is of dubious make and peculiar patterns, and she is fun to pester, but that is about all there is to her. No, I’ve spent my days missing you, Corona. Do you trust me when I say that?”

“Ever so, sister. I know because I shared the same grief.”

“As we share everything.” Ianthe pulled her close into a tight hug, feeling Corona’s hands pressing below her shoulderblades, fingers grasping at whatever aspect of her dear sister she could hold onto. "There's no other girl in the universe for me, love.”


End file.
